We Go Together
by AsLostAsAliceAsMadAsTheHatter
Summary: Rocketshipping ahead!
1. Roses

James remebers the first time he really spoke to Jessie. Not the forced conversations of training, but a true conversation. They had been hiking to the checkpoint during the beginning of their twenty-four hour challenge, and were deep into the woods when they suddenly emerged into a meadow. It was filled with flowers of all kinds, and James, being who he was, immediately began laughing happily and, there was no other word for it, frolicking, through them. He could hear his teammates groan in unison, and soon enough his fun was interrupted by the stomping of boots.

Jessie grabbed him and whirled him to face her, the blush staining her cheeks evidence of her rage.

"James!" she snapped, "We're in the middle of a contest! This is no time to play in an overgrown garden!"

"But...they're pretty," he replied timidly, cringing when he saw her eyes narrow.

"James," she growled, and that was the only warning he got before being pummeled into the ground.

Head spinning, he stood to follow her. They walked on, quickly reaching the edge of the field. Suddenly she stopped, and he and Meowth nearly plowed into her back. They peered around her, curious as to what caused her to freeze. There in front of her, stood a single red rose. James didn't understand. Hadn't she just said the flowers were unimportant?

He watched as she crouched down, fingers gently caressing the velvety petals. He stepped to her side, both to see better and to get away from the grouchy pokemon that was the third teammate. Tears welled in the woman's eyes, and though he hadn't known her long, he grew concerned.

"Jessie? You okay?" he asked, hoping he wouldn't get another beating. She didn't answer, simply staring at the flower. "Jessie?"

It was silent for several minutes, the only sound the light wind ruffling the leaves on the trees.

"It's my favorite flower," a feminine voice whispered somewhat sadly, startling the lavender haired man. It took him a moment to realize it was his partner's voice, so normally hard and flat, speaking with such emotion. "It's so simple, yet so beautiful."

"Why is it your favorite?" he asked quietly, afraid to break the moment.

"It reminds me of my mother. It's so delicate, but so dangerous. The thorns protect it from danger but it represents love. That was my mother, dangerous but beautiful and loving."

She blinked, and the spell was broken. Her eyes hardened once again, showing no trace of emotion, and James knew it was a moment to be forgotten and never again mentioned.

"What are you two waiting for? Let's go!" Jessie snapped, already in motion. He followed behind loyally, though he would glance over his shoulder every few seconds until the field was out of sight.

 _ **...**_

James never mentioned the incident in the field, not even after they'd passed training and become agents, and eventually friends. But he never forgot it either. That was why when, every time they did their motto, he held a rose. It was his subtle way of letting her know he hadn't forgotten, and that he cared. He always gave it to her after they had been blasted off, enjoying the happiness it usually brought. And though he'd never admit it, he compared Jessie to the rose as she had her mother, dangerous but beautiful.

That was why, when she was truly upset, he would call her his rose. At first she had hated it, but over time it became his nickname for her, a secret way to calm her down and let her know everything would turn out all right. And secretly, she loved it, though she would never admit it. It made her feel as though she belonged, as though she had a family. So as the years passed and the name Rose stuck, she would secretly smile, enjoying the attention and the feeling of security that accompanied the title.


	2. Thunder

Jessie gulped nervously as she settled in for bed. The skies had been overcast all day, light rain falling throughout. It had begun raining harder as night fell, and she knew that meant one thing; thunderstorms. It wasn't the rain she hated, it was the thunder and lightning. The bright flashes and loud booms had terrifed her throughout her childhood, and unfortunately she hadn't grown out of it as she reached adulthood.

On such nights she usually lay awake, too scared to sleep and too dignified to ask for help. But lately they had been failing more often, traveling further, and eating less. She was exhausted, and though she tried to fight it, soon succumbed to sleep, unaware of the low rumbling beginning as she closed her eyes.

 _ **...**_

Jessie woke in the middle of the storm, thunder booming around her. She sat up, trembling and fighting tears. A lightning flash illuminated the room they had managed to sneak into for the night, though it wasn't much of one. She could see James and Meowth sleeping peacefully and couldn't help the small snort that slipped out. Those two could sleep through anything.

She jumped at the next flash of lightning and crack of thunder, her sleeping bag finding its way over her head. She lay cowering for a bit, rendered immobile by the storm. Tears slipped unbidden from her eyes, wetting her pillow. There came a period of silence, the only sound the rain hitting the roof, and she sighed, emerging from her sleeping bag in belief that the storm was over. She found she was wrong when a large clap of thunder rattled their meagre shelter.

She screamed, in one fluid motion leaving her sleeping bag and joining James in his. He woke as she attached herself to his side, whimpering and hiding her face in his neck. Though drowsy, he realized something was terribly wrong and began to rub her back.

"Jessie, what's wrong? Why are you so scared?" he asked quietly. She mumbled something in response, though it was muffled as she had yet to reveal her face. "What?"

"Storm. Thunder," she whispered, lifting her face up just enough for him to be able to hear him but hiding again at the next flash.

Understanding washed over him like cold water. Jessie, his Jessie, the woman unafraid of anything and tough as nails, was afraid of a simple storm. He smiled gently, and had she been looking at him would have seen the love in his expression.

"It can't hurt you, I've got you," James whispered into her hair, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

"I know it can't hurt me!" she snapped, though her anger was brief. "I just don't like it."

"Well I promise nothing will happen to you as long as I'm around." Gently, he tilted her head up, pressing a soft kiss to her lips and smiling as he felt her begin to relax. "See? Nothing to be afraid of."

She smiled at him, a small one, though it was progress. He frowned as he noticed her drying tears.

"You've been crying. Were you that afraid?"

"Yes," she admitted softly, embarrassed to have been caught in such a vulnerable position.

"Jessie, any time you're afraid, or hurt, or sick, or anything, I want you to know I'm here for you. I love you, and I want to be there for you when you need me, okay?" James said seriously.

"I know, and I love you, too. I just don't like feeling weak."

"You're anything but weak," James said, locking his eyes with hers. "You're the bravest, most courageous person I've ever known, and you're damn beautiful. Everyone gets scared, Jess, it's only human. So don't be afraid to admit it. I love you, and I know you aren't as unfeeling as you like to pretend you are."

Jessie smiled at him, leaning over and kissing him.

"What would I do without you?" she asked, settling back down with her head on his chest.

"Be at a loss without a punching bag?" he joked, laughing as she lightly slapped him.

"You're an idiot," Jessie yawned, "but you're my idiot."

"Mm-hmm, forever," James whispered, kissing her head again. "Sweet dreams, Jess."

The two slept through the night, storm forgotten, dreaming of success and the future.


	3. Wounds

"Looks like Team Rocket's blasting off again!" the trio yelled as they flew through the air yet again.

They landed rather painfully on a dirt road miles from Ash and his friends, sliding a few feet before finally losing all momentum and stopping. They groaned as they layed there, trying to grasp their bearings and figure out what hurt and how best to get up. Jessie sat up first as usual, hissing as she felt her sore muscles protest.

"Well this is just great!" she hissed as she stood up, testing how hard it was to move.

"Those brats!" snapped Meowth, rising to his feet as well. "One of these days I'm gonna thundershock them and see how they like it!"

"That's not all we'll do," Jessie growled as she tugged on her skirt, desperate to preseve what little modesty the uniform provided. "Well James, what are you waiting for? Get up! We've gotta get moving to catch up to those twerps!"

To her surprise, he didn't jump to obey as he usually did, and her anger flared.

"Didn't you hear me? I said get up you big baby!" Soft whimpers met her ears, and her anger dimmed, replaced by a small amount of concern. "James?"

Meowth cocked his head, confused as to why the man didn't get up and complain about their failed mission as he usually did. A faint odor hit his nose, and he sniffed deeply, recognizing but unable to name the scent. His eyes widened as he realized what it was.

"Jessie, he's bleedin'!" he yelled.

Her eyes widened before she schooled her features, walking over and kneeling by her partner. She gently rolled him over onto his back, afraid to injure him more. A rather large scrape ran up his leg, his pants torn to reveal the deep cuts. More blood seeped from his left arm and side, apparently where he'd taken the brunt of the fall.

"Meowth," she called, "go find the first aid kit in the balloon. I'm fairly sure our camp is somewhere around here. He scurried off, and it was only when he was gone that she allowed her concern to show on her face. "James, look at me," she said, tone far gentler than normal.

Green eyes filled with tears cracked open to focus on her. Her hand came up and wiped away the tears beginning to leak from his eyes, her touch equally as gentle as her voice. He leaned against her palm, the touch comforting.

"Don't worry, you'll be fine," she said, a small frown marring her features.

"I know," he ground out through clenched teeth. "I always am when you're around."

She blushed, but didn't reply. It was silent then, the only sounds their breathing.

"I got it!" Meowth yelled, running up the road, causing them both to jump slightly.

"Good, give it here," Jessie demanded, voice once again hard.

The cat handed over the kit, stepping back to give her the room to work. Gently, she pushed back the torn pants leg and began cleaning away the blood, eyes flashing as she saw the depth of the scrape. His side was worse, and she actually had to pull out a rock that he had landed on before she could stitch it up, nearly growling in rage. By the time she got to his arm her blood was boiling and her eyes resembled flecks of ice. James was openly sobbing, his yelps the only thing breaking the silence.

Meowth watched, worried but confident that Jessie would patch him up. He almost felt sorry for the twerps if she ever got her hands on them. Everyone knew no one hurt James and got away unscathed, and this was the last straw for the firey redhead, that much was apparent from the proverbial steam rising from her head.

"There, all done," Jessie said, wiping off James' blood onto her skirt, uncaring of the potential stain.

She helped him sit up, noticing his wince as the stitches pulled. He leaned on her heavily, the ordeal wearing him out. She allowed his head to rest on her chest, her hand absentmindedly running through his hair.

"Thanks, Jess," James said, resting his hand on her thigh.

She hummed, though she wasn't really paying attention. Those twerps were so dead when she saw them next. No one hurt James and got away with it.


	4. Gender

A baby. Those two words had been ringing in his ears for the past three months, ever since he and Jessie had seen those two pink lines. He still couldn't decide if he was more excited or afraid of their impending child, given their history, but Jessie appeared perfectly calm. She was showing now, her small frame giving her the appearance of being further along. But the one thing they had yet to discuss was the baby's sex.

He didn't know how she felt about the subject, as it wasn't something they had discussed before or even after they were married. As a child, he had spared the occasional thought about future children, but never long enough to properly decide if he wanted a son or a daughter. Jessie, he suspected, wanted a daughter, and in a way he did as well. A little girl with her hair and his eyes. Yes, that he could clearly imagine.

 _ **...**_

Jessie was pregnant, something she was extremely anxious about, though she hid her fears from James. Her stomach grew larger every day, and with it thoughts of whether their unborn child was a boy or girl. She didn't know about James, but she wanted a little boy. A little boy with her eyes and James' hair.

She stroked her stomach lovingly as she pictured their child. She could see herself fussing over him, James teaching him to cook, and Meowth regailing him with stories of their days in Team Rocket. It was wonderful, and though she knew she could just as easily have a girl, she held onto the hope it was a boy, resolving to talk to James about it later.

 _ **...**_

"Jessie?" James whispered as they lay in bed, surrounded by darkness.

"Hmm?"

"I was just thinking..."

"About what?" she asked, turning so that her bump pressed into his side.

"The baby, you know, what it'll be." She was silent, which he took as his cue to go on. "I mean, don't get me wrong, I'll love it as long as I live, but have you ever considered having a little girl? A daughter that looks like you but with my eyes?"

"...I've considered it," she finally responded. "But have you ever thought about a little boy? A son that looks like you with my eyes?"

"I've thought about it," he answered.

They lay in silence for a few minutes, each thinking about what the other said.

"So you want a son?" James asked after a bit, turning to face her.

"And you want a little girl?"

They started to laugh, amazed that they had guessed wrong about what their partner wanted. James held her as their laughter subsided, kissing her gently.

"Does it really matter?" he asked.

"No, not as long as it's healthy," Jessie responded. "Besides, it's a part of us regardless, right? What's not to love?"

"Not a thing."

 _ **...**_

At the next ultrasoud when the nurse asked if they wished to know their child's gender, they both smiled and shook their heads. The nurse looked puzzled, and the expectant parents were only too glad to enlighten her.

"It's a part of us regardless, so there's no need to know before the birth," Jessie said, looking from her husband to the nurse.

"Gender doesn't matter," James said with a shrug.

The nurse smiled, nodding in understanding. They were an unusual couple, but they could teach the other patients a thing or two. She glanced back at the image pulsing on the screen, smiling at it. Oh yes, they would be pleased indeed to learn their baby's gender.


	5. Pain

He had always hated seeing her in pain, and though many years had passed since he had come to that realization, it didn't make it any easier to deal with. If anything it was harder, especially since he knew he could do nothing to help her. He had to face the facts; Jessie was dying. He supposed he shouldn't have been surprised, given their advanced ages and all the injuries they had sustained in their youth coming back to bite them. But he'd always thought he'd go first, never her, not with her spitfire personality and determination.

He'd always imagined her at his bedside, teasing and insulting him so as to hide her true feelings, tears glistening yet unshed in her eyes. But it was not to be. She was dying, and if what the doctor said was true, it could be any time. James clenched his fists the best he could, trying to keep himself together for her. He turned his eyes to her pale, drawn form, resting on the bed.

Jessie had always been beautiful, and age hadn't ruined it in the least. It wasn't until she became sick that she began to lose her beauty, losing weight and having her hair thin. She was still gorgeous to him though, and always would be.

She had wanted to die at home, not in the hospital, even though her doctor insisted upon her staying under observance. She had asked if it made any difference at that point, and the man had reluctantly admitted that no, it didn't. So away she went, back to their home, to their bed, to the love of their family. Even now, their daughters and son waited downstairs with their children, forbidden by their mother to see her in such a state.

James watched the shallow rise and fall of her chest, noting how it was just the smallest fraction of a second longer between each breath. He teared up, unable to keep his composure any longer. His wife was dying before his very eyes, in agony that he couldn't erase, and he couldn't look away, couldn't risk missing her last breath. Blue eyes cracked open just a fraction, but he rushed to her side nevertheless. He took in the way her eyes clenched together tightly, the tension throughout her body as wave after wave of pain washed over her.

She managed a smile for him, never one to give up without a fight. He smiled back, but inside he was dying right along with her. She shifted, her hand coming to rest atop his for a final time. She inhaled a shaky breath, and he leaned closer, desperate to catch the sound of her voice one last time.

"James..." Jessie exhaled in a breathy whisper, "I love...you. Forgive...me..."

She coughed, and he brought up tissue to catch the blood robotically.

"Forgive you for what?" he asked, voice choked with tears. "For having enough sense to move on to something better? Come on Jess, you know you've always been smarter than me."

She gave him another weak smile, and it was all he could do not break down.

"I'll...be...waiting. I...love...you," she said again, eyes slipping closed.

"I love you too, Jessica. I love you, too."

James gently lifted her upper body off the mattress, slding in behind her and laying her against his chest. She sighed, and he knew that even though she was in immense pain she wouldn't want it any other way. He winced at her slight weight. It didn't even feel like he was holding her anymore, but then at that point she really was just a shadow of herself. He remained silent, his mind absorbed in memories, feeling her breathe. At some point, he noticed the time between the breaths was becoming disturbingly long. He looked down at her then, finally releasing his pent up tears. They dripped into her hair, disappearing into the strands.

He kissed her head over and over again as her breaths grew slower and her heartbeat weaker. Finally, after what seemed an eternity, they stopped all together. He tilted her head back, pressing one last kiss to her cooling lips, before easing off the bed and repositioning her body. It was then the wailing began, drawing his children to the room. He barely registered their presence, or being moved to a different room. All he knew was that Jessie was gone, and it felt like a piece of him was missing.

Her pain, the thing he'd despised for so long was at long last over, but his was only beginning.


	6. Cooking

It wasn't that Jessie couldn't cook so much as she found the job tedious. That was why she let James do all of the cooking, whether they were on a mission or safely at the base. But desperate times called for desperate measures, and since she was starving and he wasn't awake, she was reduced to cooking for herself.

She moved as silently as she could, prepping the pan and ingredients before throwing the chicken in the pan, smiling as the sizzle reached her ears. It was lucky that Meowth was out with some female meowth, otherwise she'd never hear the end of it. She moved fluidly, her movements coming naturally as she added ingredients and spices. The tiny kitchen soon smelled of sauted chicken and various vegetables, giving the tiny shack they were currently camping in a homey smell.

So involved in her task was she that she didn't notice the small bedroom door creak open and a certain lavender haired man peek out.

James watched in awe as Jessie traipsed around the tiny kitchen, effortlessly throwing together a small meal. It smelled heavenly, and he couldn't stop his mouth from watering. He had no idea she could cook since she never offered to do so whenever it was meal time. She looked almost relaxed, standing by the stove and sliding their small pan across the burner.

Against his will, a vison of her several months pregnant and doing the same filled his mind. They were in their own little house, Meowth curled in a basket near her feet. He snuck up behind her, placing a kiss on her cheek and wrapping his arms around her extended waist. Instead of slapping him as he suspected she would do if he ever actually tried to kiss her, she leaned back into his embrace. The scene changed, this time she was curled against him on the couch in front of a roaring fire, her waist equally as slim as it was in reality.

Several more little daydreams passed through his mind, and he found he liked what they depicted. He sighed, forgetting he was supposed to be spying, wishing that they could be what his mind desired. Jessie froze at the sound, quiet though it was, and turned to find its source. Her eyes narrowed as she saw her partner leaning against the doorframe of their room. James, still lost in his thoughts, didn't realize she had spotted him until their spare frying pan hit him square in the face.

"What do you think you're doing?!" Jessie yelled, grabbing for another item to hurl at the man.

Ducking what he soon discovered was the toaster, James pulled the pan off his face, sighing as he realized it was dented beyond repair.

"Easy Jess, I just woke up to a great smell and wanted to see what it was!" he yelled, ducking the coffee pot.

"Well...at least have the decency to let a girl know you're standing there," she finished, surprised by the compliment.

She turned back to the stove, earlier ease gone, and finished up with the chicken. James nonchalantly crossed the room to stand beside her, looking over her shoulder, impressed with what he saw. Nervous under his gaze but determined not to show it, she scooped her meal out of the pan onto a plate, unable to help the small smile as she watched the steam rise. She sat down, only looking up to glare at her partner.

"Did you want something?" she snapped, no longer nervous but angry at his continuous staring.

"That looks really good, Jess," he said, ignoring her question. "You should cook for me some time."

"I don't cook," she snapped.

James raised an eyebrow.

"Really? Then what's that? Did the chicken hop into the pan and saute itself?"

Her glare hardened but she didn't answer. He continued to stare until she heaved a sigh and slumped in her chair.

"Okay, so I cook a little," she reluctantly admitted.

"Then cook for me. Not now, but some time."

"Why?"

"I cook for you all the time. I think it's time the tables were turned, besides I'm curious. Come on Jessie, please?"

"Oh all right, but no promises on when!" she replied, annoyed with his begging.

"Thanks, Jessie!" James chirped.

"Hurray, now go away so I can eat in peace."

James had the common sense not to say anything when he woke up the next morning to waffles and bacon with fresh orange juice, though he did mention aloud to no one in particular that it was the best meal he'd ever had.


End file.
